Bruised
by Vi Louiy
Summary: AU. When Hermione returns from the summer leading into third year, she's differnt. She's cold, distant and manipulative. She's unforgiving, yet, she defends escaped criminal Black. Why? And, why is Hermione meeting with Snape and Lupin once a week? T.
1. Concrete Angel

**Bruised**

**By: Penguiy At Your Service**

**Sirius Black ~ Hermione Granger**

**Rating: T**

**Genres: Angst&Romance**

**(A/N) Hey guys. This is my first fanfiction on this account. No, I will not tell you my other account—I have a good reason too. I want to be able to write on this by itself and not have to worry about repeat reviewers. Each chapter will be based off a song, I may skip some parts. Lyrics will be in italics. **

**Chapter 1**

**Song: Concrete Angel**

**Artist: Martina McBride**

…

_She walks to school with the lunch she packs; nobody knows what she's holding back._

Sirius Black watched the young girl walk to the muggle playground. Hermione Granger was her name, 13 years old—soon to be 14. She limped slightly, though her face was impassive. A growl tore through his animal throat when a yellow bruise appeared on her wrist as she pushed a piece of hair behind her ear—that wasn't there yesterday.

He sat in the shade of the old willow tree in his animagus form, his eyes following the young girl. At first it was because he thought she could lead him to Harry, who could lead him to Ron, who would lead him to Peter. He had read somewhere—was it in the Daily Prophet?—that they were best friends, the inseparable trio.

Hermione Granger was the easiest to find. She lived in the middle of muggle North London. She was known as the town's genius, the smart girl. Her name was legend.

He had followed her day after day, wondering when to approach her. Sometimes she would stop and pet him, or feed him some stale bread she had with her—was that all she got to eat?—after a while he started seeing things about her. The way one side of her face was larger than the other, or the way her eyes were rimmed with red, they were just the minor things. He also noticed the way she would wince if anyone touched her left arm and the way she limped from time to time. It just didn't add up, and the only solution was one he did _not _want to think of.

_Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday, she hides the bruises with linen and lace._

Nobody except Sirius seemed to notice that her clothes were usually too big for her, or the way that she always wore long sleeves—it was summer for Merlin's sake!

She was wearing the same dress that she had worn yesterday—a worn, lightly stitched sundress, though with a gray jacket over top.

_The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask, it's hard to see the pain behind the mask._

Sirius had seen some of the older people of the town eyes follow the girl. They had watched her limp to and fro, yet no one did anything.

It made Sirius see red. What had to happen before anyone would give a shit? Would she have to _die?_

There was something else fishy about little Granger. Sometimes, if he looked really hard, he could see cuts on her left arm—but that couldn't be right, _could it?_

She kept up a constant mask, never once letting it fall. The pain never seemed to shine through, but neither did the happiness—if there was any. Her eyes seemed dead; an endless pool of death and dirt, her dark eyes gave him the chills sometimes.

_Bearing the burden of a secret storm, sometimes she wishes she were never born._

He followed her home once. She lived in a lovely yellow house, a large one too. She slept on the first floor and always kept her window open.

It was horrible. That night as he lay under the bush, directly under the window, he heard her cry for the first time.

She asked God why she was born—why her? She talked to a boy too. A boy named David.

She talked for hours, altering between anger and sorrow.

She asked David why he had to die, why he had to leave her. She asked him over and over again; tear, after fucking tear falling from her porcelain face and into the bush, lightly splashing Sirius's fur.

She cried out to David, apologizing for making him mad, for making him leave. She begged him…begged him to take her away from it all.

David never came.

As that night progressed she got more and more hysterical before finally falling asleep on her notebook. The next night—she did it all over again…

_Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone, in a world she can't rise above._

She liked rain. He found that out. She would always stand in it, just soaking it up.

She was cold, too. He once saw a boy bully her. She responded with word, coolly crafted. They sunk deep into the boy, tearing him apart. The boy even started to cry.

Little Granger didn't seem to give a fuck.

_But her dreams gave her wings and she flies to a place where she's loved._

Sometimes, when she pets his fur, she'll tell him about Hogwarts, about how she's made fun of for being muggleborn, about how she only has Harry and Ron, sometimes she mentions a girl named Parvati.

She wants to become a social worker, to stop the 'things' as she calls them, that happens to her, to happen to other children. She described how Harry was also mistreated—she never asked questions though. Neville Longbottom too, apparently the year before he had asked her to wrap his ankle after his Uncle Algie decided to play 'Twister' with him.

Everyday before she went back to the big yellow house on Magnolia Street, she would kiss his head, telling him, 'Bye, Snuffles', before trekking back to hell.

_Somebody cries in the middle of the night, the neighbors here but they turn out the light._

Sometimes, Sirius would see the neighbors look out the windows, they would spot little Granger crying, and they would just turn a blind eye. What could Dr. Granger do to his little princess, after all?

They heard every night, Sirius was sure they heard her talking too, but after all, she probably just broke a nail.

_A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate, when morning comes, it will be too late._

Sirius had followed her home again.

She had left the door open, just a crack. Sirius had stuck his paw in it and opened the door, following her quietly.

Immediately, he smelled alcohol.

"You're late!" a gruff voice stopped Sirius in his tracks.

"Sorry, daddy." Hermione muttered, looking at the ground.

Dr. Granger slapped her across the face, "Look at me when you talk!"

Hermione bit back tears, "Sorry, Daddy."

Dr. Granger barred his teeth, "You will be." Granger picked up his daughter and through her against the wall. Sirius was pretty sure he heard a few ribs crack.

He growled. Granger took no notice.

He picked Hermione up by her hair, dragging her to a somewhat standing position.

"What do you say for yourself?" Granger sneered.

"Sorry, Daddy." She said meekly.

Granger slapped her once more, and then let her drop to the floor. He trodden on her stomach, but before anyone in the room knew what happened, Sirius had tackled Granger to the floor, snarling at him—even though it wasn't needed. Granger was knocked out by the fall.

Hermione's breath was labored, coming in swallow and loud. Her brown eyes filled with tears.

Sirius did the only thing he could think of—he turned back to human.

The young girl simply stared at him; she didn't scream or yell, but just stared. He realized with a start that her eyes were starting to glaze over, and her breath becoming harder. He bent over to pick her up—she scrambled back.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He said softly, his heart breaking when she stared up at him.

Gently, he picked her up; she barely was able to moan from the pain.

Turning in place, he apparated to the only place he could think of—the home of Remus J. Lupin.

"You!" Lupin yelled, pointing his wand at Sirius.

"Not now, Remmy." Sirius snapped, laying the young girl down on the rug. "You got to help her."

Lupin looked at the girl, then turned angrily to Sirius, "What did you do to her?"

Sirius glared at him, "I may be daft, but I'm not daft enough to bring someone I hurt to you. Besides, I could never hurt a child!"

Remus stood up to his tallest height, "You betrayed Lily and James!"

At that moment Hermione seemed to stop breathing. Sirius didn't even deny the accusation, just watched the young girl who was slowly dying. She spat up some blood, and then, once again, stopped moving.

"She's dying." He said softly. "Remus she's dying!"

Remus looked at the young girl, before looking back at Sirius, "You know where everything is."

Remus worked all night to save the young girl, three times almost losing her. Sirius silently watched, and when it was all over, he transformed into Padfoot and went to sleep right next to her head.

Remus wondered what sort of tale this strange duo would relay to him.

_A statue stands in a shaded place,_

_An angel girl with an upturned face,_

_Her name is written on a polished rock,_

_A broken heart that the world forgot._

…

**Review.**


	2. My Skin

**Bruised**

**By: Penguiy At Your Service**

**Sirius Black ~ Hermione Granger**

**Rating: T**

**Genres: Angst&Romance**

**(A/N) Thanks for all the story alerts and reviews! Read at the bottom if you have any questions of why she's acting the way she is.**

**Chapter 2**

**Song: My Skin**

**Artist: Natalie Merchant**

…

_Take a look at my body; look at my hands, there's so much here that I don't understand._

When Hermione woke up, the only thing she felt was pain. Angry tears had welled up in her eyes, her body screaming its protest every time she moved an inch.

She looked at her hands, her small, pale, icy hands. They were swollen, probably broken, yet for some reason, they were wrapped. She didn't understand why someone, her own father, would hurt her.

It hadn't always been like that. Her dad used to be amazing, always taking her and her elder brother to the movies.

Then _it _happened. Her father had returned home drunk, positively reeking of alcohol. She had said 'Hi, daddy,' and waved at him happily, ignoring the danger signs. Her brother however had seen them. He had rushed her to her bedroom. That night Hermione snuck out of her room to get a glass of water. In the kitchen, her father was holding a metal bat, her mother pressed against the counter, begging him to put it down. He had seen her and yelled at her, she had frozen in place. He had slapped her. The next day he had apologized. Then it happened again, then again, then again, until the 'sorries' stopped and the pain came in its place.

_Your face saving promise, whispered like prayers, I don't need them._

She remembered a deep voice promising her she would be safe, a kiss on her brow, the distant smell of coffee, yelling. She didn't need them. She didn't need a savior with a deep voice and light touches. She didn't need a kiss to the brow or a hug. She didn't _want _them.

Someone knocked at the door. She grunted.

The man who opened the door had warm brown eyes, and a fatherly aura about him. "Hello, Ms. Granger. I am Professor Remus Lupin. I will be teaching at Hogwarts this year; Defense Against The Dark Arts."

She merely stared at him, her gaze haunted, her eyes seeing left looking right through him. Finally, she spoke, "Okay."

She struggled to sit, to look well put together. Her perfect mask hardly quivered when a sharp pain stabbed her chest.

"Ms. Granger." Another voice spoke. This one like velvet, barely above a whisper. It made Hermione freeze in horror, "Lay back down before you manage to fracture your ribs again, foolish girl."

"Professor Snape." Hermione greeted with a stiff nod, "How are you doing, sir?"

His dark eyes glinted, though Hermione could not make out the emotion, "Much better than you, I expect."

"This?" Hermione inquired, lifting an eyebrow. She waved her hand over her body, "I'm afraid I'm terribly clumsy out of school. While at school, I found this interesting charm that helps you stay on your feet. At home, however, I fell down the stairs. Nothing to it."

"Bullshit!" it was the deep voice. The one who whispered to her and smoothed her hair.

_I've been treated so wrong, I've been treated so long; as if I'm becoming untouchable._

She flinched away from the sheer volume of the exclamation.

"We can't help you if you won't let us, Ms. Granger. And if you won't get help, you'll never heal." Snape said, his silk like voice echoing through out the room.

Hermione looked at him, her dead eyes focused on his face. Her cold answer shocked them all, "What if I don't want to heal?"

She turned away from them, her back facing them, her face hidden in the shadows. "Turn the light out when you leave."

_Contempt loves the silence; it thrives in the dark with fine winding tendrils that strangle the heart._

As she laid in silence, the darkness matching her mood, she wondered why she refused help.

She sighed into the darkness. She slightly shivered but didn't make a move to pull up the blanket that covered her frail body.

After a while, she felt for her heart beat, two fingers on her neck, making sure it was still there.

It wasn't that she thought she was dead. But, rather she didn't think she was alive. She breathed and walked, yet she didn't live. Her life was filled with pain.

She just existed, floating in and out of fields of grey each day, not evening knowing if she could lift her feet.

_They say promises sweeten the blow but I don't need them. No, I don't need them._

Later, a knock was once again heard at the door. In walked Sirius Black, holding a steaming plate of Shepard's Pie.

"Eat up, little Granger." He said cheerfully pushing the plate towards her.

"Did you make this?" she questioned snidely, her lip curling in disgust.

"No. Remmy did." He answered, just as cheerful as before, "What would be wrong if I did make it?"

She gave him an Are-You-Really-This-Dumb? sort of stare. "Well, one, you've been in Azkaban for 12 years. Two, you are a 33 year old bachelor. Three, you're a convicted murderer. Need I go on?" She laughed coldly.

"Nah," Sirius replied lightly, "You can stop."

"Hand me my jacket." Hermione said, pointing at the gray jacket hanging over the side of a chair.

As soon as the jacket was in her hands, she started rooting through the pockets. Almost immediately, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up.

"How do you have those?" Sirius asked, surprised. "You're not even 14!"

Hermione blew some smoke towards him, "Its not that hard to steal someone's ID and get mail service."

A serene expression overtook her face. "I've been smoking since I was 12."

"That's horrible!" Sirius exclaimed, all joking aside.

Hermione giggled giving Sirius the suspicion that it wasn't just tobacco in the cigarette, "I've done all sorts of horrible things." Another giggle, "Potion fumes are really good too, though they do not hold a chance against muggle pills."

Sirius's horrorstruck face was staring back at her.

"You know what?" she asked, "I'm not hungry."

Almost robotically he walked out of the room, the steaming food in his hands.

Had he looked back, he would have seen the cool, calculating expression on Hermione's face, any serenity or affects of drugs unseen as she drug out the smoke, not even coughing as she slowly exhaled.

_Oh, I need the darkness, the sweetness, the sadness, the weakness._

_Oh, I need this._

_I need a lullaby, a kiss goodnight, angel sweet love of my life._

_Oh, I need this._

_Well is it dark enough?_

_Can you see me?_

_Do you want me?_

_Can you reach me?_

_Oh, I'm leaving._

…

**Review.**

**(A/N) Hermione is hesitant of excepting help because of the abuse she endured. She is rude to them because of not trusting anyone. Abuse often leads to this. She is a smoker because when things get tough, many times people search for a way out. Smoking became hers.**

**Adios,**

**Penguiy At Your Service**


	3. The Rain

**Bruised**

**By: Penguiy At Your Service**

**Sirius Black ~ Hermione Granger**

**Rated: T**

**Genres: Angst&Romance**

**(A/N) By a show of reviews, who hates fakers? I despise them! There's a girl who goes to my school who says, "Stop bullying!" and "Don't stereotype!". Last year she called me an emo freak and pushed me into walls. She told me she hoped my parents got divorced because my dad looks like a 'creeper'. She knocked my books out of my hands on the way to class. At least I was real. At least I didn't stuff my bra and whore myself out. Fuck you, Chasity.**

**Chapter 3**

**Song: The Rain**

**Artist: B.O.B**

…

_And there you are standing all alone in the rain like oh no, and you don't know where to go 'cause your in the rain._

Soon enough, it was the night before Hermione would have to go back to Hogwarts. She had already gotten her school stuff and managed to avoid Harry and the Weasleys, even going as far as ignoring their owls. The last one she came, she had been using as an ash tray which was exactly how Sirius found her.

"Hey, kiddo, what's up?" he asked, sitting on the ground with her. Remus was in the house making dinner, so he had kicked Sirius out after he stole some of the mashed potatoes.

"Don't call me kiddo." Hermione answered, rolling her cinnamon colored eyes.

"You didn't answer my question." Sirius said in a sing-song voice. Hermione's left eye twitched.

"I've changed." She spoke quietly, her eyes now downcast. "They'll notice."

Sirius couldn't help but notice the lost look in her eyes. "Maybe they won't care."

"You're an idiot." Was the only response he received.

_And it keeps pouring down on you, the suns gone and you're feeling blue, and its pouring down on you but you keep moving through._

Hermione started fiddling with her dark hair, somehow working it into a braid.

"They're your best friends." Sirius said.

"Look what yours did to you!" Hermione sneered, though immediately regretting it. "Sorry. I'm just a little bitchy today."

"A little?" Sirius questioned.

"Don't push your luck, Dog-Breath." She snapped at him.

Sirius held his hands up in surrender.

"This is weird." Hermione said quietly, her voice slightly cracking.

"What is?" he asked, flicking her cigarette out of her hands. She glared at him before continuing.

"All of this!" she said, spreading her arms wide.

"What about it?" Sirius asked, raising a black eyebrow.

"It's," she stood up and began gesturing wildly, "you know! Nice!"

"Yes. It is rather nice. Unless Remmy kicks you out of the kitchen, but I'm pretty sure that's just me." Sirius answered, looking thoughtful.

"Yes. It's just you." Hermione said, dismissing the thought with a wave of the hand, "What it feels…Wrong!"

"Nice feels…wrong?" Sirius questioned, confusion consuming his handsome features.

"Yes! Its weird, foreign, strange, alien-like! It's just wrong!" she was yelling by now. Remus was looking out the window, looking as confused as Sirius felt.

"Why is that?" Sirius asked, his voice soft.

_And the rain comes pouring down. Yeah, yeah._

"I'm a freak! A know-it-all! A nuisance! Even my own dad hates me!" She screamed, tears falling down her pale face, "I'm a Mudblood."

"You are no such thing!" Sirius suddenly roared his face livid. "Who the hell called you that?"

Hermione laughed bitterly, "Who the fuck do you think?"

Sirius was still livid ten minutes later when Remus was sitting with them, bringing plates with him. Hermione was still staring at the sky like it held all of the answers. Remus looked slightly mad too but for Hermione's sake, he kept relatively calm.

"So, Hermione, are you excited for the school year?" he asked, picking up his taco; he had learned what they were while exploring Mexico shortly after graduation.

"Not really. I'm excited to get a time turner, and to see what the school did to keep Dog-Breath out, and I suppose I'm excited to see Harry, maybe a bit of Ron, but other than that, I could care less." Hermione answered, shrugging her shoulders.

"Why only a bit of Ron?" Remus asked, yawning slightly.

"It's nothing. He can just be an arse sometimes." She answered dismissively.

_By no means am I living in vain but I sit in the rain; I'm addicted to pain. It feels good when it enters my veins, and every time I wake up it's a similar day, 'cause I'm stuck in my ways and everywhere I go the sun's running away, but this is what I get for my troublesome ways. So here comes the rain to fuck up my parade; I ain't got nothing to say._

Hermione sighed and lay down in the grass, her eyes watching the stars. It had been almost two hours since Sirius and Remus had returned inside when the first droplet of water fell. It had hit Hermione on the ear.

She sighed deeply, rolling up her sleeves and then closing her eyes.

She felt a familiar sting coming from her left arm, and began hissing in pain.

She remembered when she began cutting—May 22nd of her first year. Lavender had been particularly vicious that day. She had ran into her dormitory and found a broken mirror on the floor. In a lapse of judgment she had lifted it too her arm and quickly swiped, five times. Over the next week she had been ashamed, hiding her arm completely and skipping meals so she wouldn't slip up. Then, exams had gotten stressful. She didn't mean too—the knife in potions had slipped from her grip and sliced her palm, but after it, she became relaxed. Then, when she truly started cutting, meaning deep and plentiful, was when she returned her, learning that her mother had left her alone with her father. She had been ever since.

By now, it was pouring. Hermione did not care.

_And as I fall into the rain, swimming through the flood, trying to unclog the drain, if you find me my address is memory lane, living amongst the darkness, so the dungeon is my domain._

Sirius knew something was wrong.

He knew something was defiantly wrong when he heard a quiet sneeze coming from the kitchen.

"What are you doing up? You're train leaves in less than 12 hours?" he asked immediately as he spotted the used-to-be bushy haired girl, though her hair was still in a braid like it usually was. He noticed that she was soaking wet.

"I just got in." she said, narrowing her eyes as if he was the one who was caught in the wrong, "What are _you _doing? Is that a bag you're carrying?"

He cursed her quick eyesight. "No. It's not. You should be in bed."

"I think it is! And why is it so _important _for me to be in bed? Besides, you know I don't sleep!" she said, her temper rising yet still being quiet.

"It's not a bloody bag!" Sirius hissed. Hermione looked unimpressed, her skinny arms firmly on her hips, staring him down.

"Well, _I _think it is!" Hermione hissed back, a sadistic grin forming on her face. "You know, if you wanted to go to Hogwarts, you could have just asked."

"It's not a—Wait, what?" he asked, confusion once again overcoming his features.

Still keeping a grin on her face, Hermione reached under the sink cabinet, withdrawing a couple boxes with muggle women on them, each a different color of hair. "Ever dye your hair, Padfoot?"

_Higher than the mountains, feeling lower than the plains but this is what I chose so how can I complain? And trying to find some brain is really not my aim, stuck in inside my head, so it replays again._

…

**Review!**

**(A/N) I am so, so sorry it took my so long to update—my internet was cut off! So, finally they got the damn thing fixed. Then, at like four in the morn' my brother—bless his soul—connected it! Though, I suppose that was so he could play his X-box thingy…**

**Anyways feel free to leave song suggestions. No love songs—not ready for that stage yet.**

**Adios,**

**Penguiy.**


	4. Slipped Away

**Bruised**

**By: Penguiy At Your Service**

**Sirius Black ~ Hermione Granger**

**Rated: T**

**Genres: Angst&Romance**

**(A/N) Sorry about not updating for a while. The days have all been blurred together lately. So, I have a reason for not updating. Its not good, its rather horrible. The reason is that my cousin Christopher was murdered. I've been terribly depressed lately.**

**Chapter 4**

**Song: Slipped Away**

**Artist: Avril Lavigne**

…

_I miss you, I miss you so bad. I don't forget you, oh its so sad._

The first thing she felt was the coldness. The freezing air clamping down on her heart, sorrow setting in next. Her breathing became labored, swallow and short. Then there was the laughter. The loud, obnoxious laughter flowing through her mind. _Just like she remembered._

His face swam into her vision, his unmanageable light brown hair and dark brown eyes glinting with mirth. The solid metal chains surrounding her heart seemed to rust, shutter, and then explode into nothingness, leaving only grief and blind fury in its wake.

She gritted her teeth as her hip ached, searing pain passed through her, causing a small whimper to escape her lips. She felt something warm and wet hit her face. Reeling back in disgust, she found herself face-to-face with a bleach blond dog, roughly the size of a baby bear. Pushing him away, Hermione felt the loneliness claw at her heart again.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped. Hermione's eyes were closing though, and the only thing she heard was the blood rushing in her ears. She didn't even feel herself hit the ground.

…

It was like she was drowning. Great chugs of water filled her lungs, her mouth open in a gurgling scream. She arched her back and thrashed, liquid filling her at a frightening pace.

It was like an invisible force was holding her eyelids shut, and another held down her arms. A smooth voice was talking, though it sounded distorted and far away.

Right before she fell into the nothingness, she relived something that had happened almost 5 years prior.

The screech of tires, a horn, the smell of smoke, and then a blinding pain engulfing her.

…

_I hope you can hear me, I remember it clearly._

"Why won't she wake up?" Harry asked, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

"You relived the night your parents were killed, right?" Remus asked gently, remembering the conversation on the carriage ride over. At his affirming nod, Remus continued, "Hermione is reliving something bad that happened to her, something she was probably part of."

At that moment, she screamed, her back arching. Madam Pomfrey continued to pour potions that her throat, trying to fight off tears.

"What's happening?" Ginny asked quietly, her brown eyes wide.

Madam Pomfrey swallowed thickly, "She's trapped in her mind, reliving her memories."

"What could be so bad?" Ron asked, rubbing his already red nose, his light blue eyes watching his best friend with concern.

Remus looked at the kids in front of him, and then everything clicked, "Did Hermione ever tell you she had a brother?"

Ron shook his head, as did Ginny, but Harry kept his eyes glued to the floor.

"Harry?" Remus gently prodded, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Harry looked up with a pained expression. "It was only once. It was in first year, after exams. There was a strange glint in her eye. She told me, that her brother had hair just like mine only his was light brown. I asked her about him and she just answered that he's with my parents. We never spoke of him again."

"Harry…" Remus trailed off, sensing the despair the young boy was feeling.

"Professor Lupin?" Harry said, looking up at him. His voice shook as he uttered the last sentence, "Its going to get worse before it gets better, isn't it?"

…

Hermione watched with bored eyes as a 6 year old her played with her 14 year old brother.

"Interesting, isn't it?" a deep voice asked to her left.

Masking her alarm, she raised a brown eye brow at the 17 year old man in front of her.

"What's interesting? That in three years after this, you'll be dead, or that it's been 5 years since I've seen you?" She instead replied, her voice drawling.

"You've changed, little one." He said, sitting next to her.

"Your dead." She replied, ignoring the pang in her heart.

"I thought you were the tactful one." He answered dryly.

"You thought wrong, David." Hermione replied.

'David' smiled wryly, "Looks like I'm wrong about many things, little one."

_The day you slipped away was the day I found it won't be the same._

Ginny's large brown, doe eyes filled with tears as she watched her older friend lay on the hospital bed, "She's going to wake up…right Harry?"

"Of course." Harry answered, swinging an arm around her.

She blushed but continued with her questions. "What's Hermione really like?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, feigning ignorance.

"How does she really act?" Ginny repeated, staring up at him.

Opening his mouth, then shutting it, Harry closed his eyes, "I'm not sure, Gin, I'm not sure."

_I didn't get around to kiss you goodbye on the hand. I wish that I could see you again; I know that I can't._

"Where are we?" Hermione asked, wrapping her arms around herself.

"The In-Between." David answered. His pace quickened all of a sudden.

"So I'm dead." Hermione commented, swallowing thickly.

"Not dead." David said vaguely, "Dying."

"That's comforting." She snapped, tugging on her French braid.

David looked at her, sorrow filling his eyes, "I wish I could have protected you."

"But you can't." she replied.

"I love you." He said almost desprately. "You'll always be my little one."

"Love isn't real, you bloody fool!" she snarled, "Love is the downfall of man! If man could love, we wouldn't have been abused."

He gazed down at her sadly, "So young and so naïve."

She was about to reply when something seemed to grab her around the waist and throw her back. A scream tore through her throat as she was lifted away from the In-Between.

_I had my wake up, won't you wake up?_

Suddenly she was alone, on an abandoned road. It was raining; well, _storming _would be more accurate.

Then, around the corner came a motorcycle with two people on it. A teenage boy and a little girl.

Her heart sank.

Her gut twisted.

Bile came up her throat.

Her hands began shaking.

And then…

_The motorcycle crashed…_

…

_I keep asking why and I can't take it. It wasn't fake. It happened, you passed away._

Tears were the first thing she felt.

Tears leaked down her face, and then a sob tore through her throat, the very sound making her heart fracture.

The anguish she felt was indescribable.

She was vaguely aware of the hands holding hers or the woman shouting. All she knew was the sorrow.

Finally, when she could open her eyes, she found they meet with emerald.

She heartbrokenly whispered, "I never got to say goodbye." Before once again, sleep snagged her soul.

_Now you're gone, now you're gone, there you gone, there you go; somewhere I can't bring you back. There you go, there you go; somewhere you're not coming back._

Vaguely, Hermione realized; she was never going to see her brother again.

_The day you slipped away was the day I found it won't be the same. No…_

_The day you slipped away was the day that I found it won't be the same. Oh…_

…

**Review.**


End file.
